Tao of the Machine
by VoodooQueen
Summary: It is estimated by scientists that by the year 2030, computers will actually surpass humans on the evolutionary ladder. Cybertronians may not fare much better. *Rating may go up.*
1. Tao of the Machine: Prologue

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**Tao of the Machine: Prologue**

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_"Humanity is acquiring all the right technology for all the wrong reasons." _

_- R. Buckminster Fuller_

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The aftermath of Mission City was a bureaucratic nightmare of the highest degree. It had caught even those in the highest circles of the intelligence and defense community off guard and ill prepared. There had been speculation over the years that contact was a possibility but no one had predicted anything close to the magnitude of what had transpired.

Politicians and military leaders were left to scramble about furiously in an attempt to minimize the fallout that was sure to follow such a terrifying and brutal display of violence and destruction. There had been no time for them to sit back and calmly analyze the situation. There had been no time to rationalize exactly what had had gone wrong. There hadn't even been adequate time to distribute blame amongst the different parties and agencies that had been charged with keeping such events from ever happening. There were too many things that needed their immediate, focused attention. There were witnesses to silence, civilian casualties to explain, and dead robotic organisms that needed to be disposed of.

Official reports coming out of Washington regarding the incident had provided excuses that ranged anywhere from writing it off as an elaborate Hollywood promotion to rogue military experiments gone awry. Some members of the radical political fringe on both sides of the aisle had even attempted to shift the blame onto foreign terrorist organizations bent on the destruction of Western ideals and beliefs in order to push their agenda as it pertained to Homeland Security.

A very frightened and shaken public sector seemed willing to accept the shifting explanations from the government without question and with very little encouragement. Eager for piece of mind and a sense of security, they nervously chuckled along with government officials as they reiterated over and over again that nothing, absolutely nothing, was amiss. Everything was fine. Absolutley, positively fine. Why wouldn't it be? You're perfectly safe on our watch...

Behind closed doors, however, those in charge of national defense planning and intelligence sung a much different tune. The threat to humanity was very, very real and it was staring them directly in the face. The Cybertronians were here. They had made deliberate contact. They were responsible for the tragedy that befell Mission City and they were asking for asylum on American soil. What was a governing body to do in such a situation? Grant them residence? Send them packing to the other side of the Universe? Never before had a governing body faced such a dilemma. No protocols existed for making a decision such as this one.

At the end of the day, covetousness won out over any rational thought. With little concern about anything other than the technological edge they could gain from their new alien allies, the American government greedily threw open its arms and bid the Cybertronian race welcome. Bring us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, and we'll give you a place to call home...so long as you are able to earn your keep and make it worth our while to sustain you. It was, they told themselves, to be an essential investment in humanity's future. They would be the one's to usher us into the next phase of the evolution of the human animal.

Intense, heated discussions between the heads of the American government and the leader of the Cybertronian faction calling themselves Autobots commenced almost immediately. Agreements were drafted. Rules were negotiated. Treaties were signed. Declarations of friendship were made. Plans were implemented at once to integrate the Autobots into the great scheme of things as quickly and as seamlessly as possible.

The restructuring began almost before the ink was dry on the official documents. Sector Seven, a government agency originally responsible for studying extraterrestrial technology and responding to possible otherworldly threats, was dissolved and its assets redirected for use elsewhere. Working under the guise of NEST, the Nuclear Emergency Support Team, a combined US Military/Autobot defense force against Decepticon activity was born. A Congressional Oversight Committee was formed to oversee Autobot interactions with their human hosts. Other, smaller government agencies were created to deal with the daily drolls that came with keeping an alien race of giant robots under wraps and hidden from the public view. On the surface, relations between the Autobots and their human companions seemed most amicable.

Still, some in high places remained suspicious of Cybertronian intentions. There were whispers among those in certain circles of an imminent alien invasion. Some feared the possible extermination of the human race. Others were concerned about the theft of Earth's natural resources for use in fueling the ongoing Civil War between the Autobot and the Decepticon factions. Still others simply bemoaned the dangers they posed to national security. After all, they pressed, the Cybertronians had been able to breach Air Force One and hack into the government's computer grid, implant a virus, steal highly classified information, and black out the entire network world wide. In the information age, such an action was as dangerous, if not more so, than dropping a hydrogen bomb. The Cybertronians, it was ultimately decided, could not be trusted to function unchecked. There would need to be safeguards put in place.

In secret, darkened chambers, men in expensive, tailored suits and military uniforms with adorned with enough brass to sink a ship met with the singular purpose to secure the nation against what they believed to be the imminent Cybertronian threat to humanity. Their sessions gave birth to a new government entity, one they merrily christened as the Tactical Cybertronian Defense Command or TCDC. The TCDC's purpose was officially defined on paper as being responsible for "defense against NBE hostility and the neutralization and elimination of threats posed against the Government of the United States of America and its Allies". How TCDC planned to accomplish its defensive strategy, however, had yet to be determined.

To those involved in its inception, TCDC looked good on paper. Its goals and purpose were clearly defined. Its intentions were good. It was for the protection of all of mankind. It was there to ensure the continued survival of the human species. Still, one very important question remained: How exactly did a small, organic race hope to protect itself against a race of beings much larger, much better armed, and technically advanced to the point they were able to breeze through the most secure defense network firewalls as if they were pieces of wet tissue paper? The answer was obvious to many in the proverbial think-tank. Humans would need to make themselves smarter, faster, stronger...more formidable than their opponents.

Eyes eventually turned back in the direction of what was once known as Sector Seven. Unbeknownst to many, with the exception of those privileged enough to have been in on the ground floor, Sector Seven had been responsible through their study of what they referred to as NBE1 for many of the technological breakthroughs of the 20th Century. Microchips, fiber optics, aeronautics, and even the modern automobile could thank Sector Seven and their obsession with reverse engineering for some of the discoveries that made such innovations possible. Perhaps, those at TCBC mused, the knowledge that had been gathered about the enemy through the years of study within the bowels of the Hoover Dam could be put to use in developing a defensive strategy against the Cybertronian onslaught.

Under direct order of TCDC officials, Sector Seven's archives were brought out of storage raided. Top scientists and engineers from around the world were flown in and sequestered in an underground facility in one of the most remote regions in the United States located deep beneath Yellowstone National Park in Wyoming. Their duty was to sift through the massive amount data that had been collected from the study of NBE1 and come up with a way to design an intelligent defense system that rivaled the enemy's capabilities and could head-off and counteract any malicious activity before it became a true threat to security.

With NEST identifying and intercepting hostile NBEs around the globe and forcing an expansion of the task force to include international operatives, the proposed defense network became a number one priority for TCDC officials. Working within government channels to secure the necessary funding and materials for what was now being referred to as Project Guard Dog, TCDC finalized plans to put into place the world's first and only Sentient Autonomous Network.

SAN, as the engineers and technicians affectionately referred to it, consisted of a supercomputer buried deep within the bowels of the compound beneath Yellowstone. It would be SAN's job to coordinate all of America's strategic aresenal and defensive capabilities into a single, cohesive command structure. SAN, as it was proposed by TCDC, would assimilate with and eventually replace all NORAD authority and administration where national defense and strategic offense was concerned.

Three years and little over a hundred billions dollars went into SAN's construction. A full staff of 725 military and civilian personnel were handpicked by TCDC officials. It would be their job to oversee SAN once it was ready to be brought online and also to attend to the things the computer was incapable of doing on its own.

SAN was, in short, a technological marvel and built to be in it for the long haul. As a mechanism of war in the fight to preserve the human race, it was designed to withstand extreme conditions. Due to its location deep within the Earth, SAN was protected by several hundred feet of natural rock. Its central processing core was hydraulically stabilized in a way that made it capable of withstanding the shock of a direct nuclear strike or an earthquake measuring 10 points on the Richter Scale with the computer itself at the epicenter of the action.

All backup systems were built in triplicate in a non-parallel fashion so as to prevent the loss of multiple systems in the event of a catastrophic hit. The central processing core was capable of self-repair and contained multiple logic fortresses and data survival caches to protect the information vital to its functioning. It was estimated that SAN could lose up to 95% of its operating capacity and still be able to recover to full operational capacity within only a few days time. SAN was also given complete satellite access and permission to upload its data into orbital caches in the event of impending, catastrophic system failure or a severely damaging attack. Four Liquid-Metal Fast-Breeder Reactors supplied enough energy for to power SAN and keep both the ground and internal defense systems, which protected both the complex and the computer itself, up and running indefinitely.

SAN was programmed think proactively and stay one step ahead of the enemy in order to protect America and her allies. It could respond to a percieved threat at a moments notice without the input or prompting of its human handlers. In order to be affective in the global environment, SAN had also been designed to be able merge with the attendent slave super processor arrays in NATO countries which allowed it to extend its consciousness around the world thus making it capable of heading off any enemy activity abroad.

Using Sector Seven technology, the TCDC had also commissioned a number of semi-autonomous mechanoid units. These units were integrated directly into SAN's central processing core, allowing the computer to utilize them to service and maintain the areas of the complex where human access was limited. They were necessary to handle routine software and hardware maintenance, replace and repair equipment, and perform simple janitorial duties in the areas of the complex that were inaccessible to humans. The mechanoids, although of simple design and function, were self-sufficient and capable of self-repair and self-replication should the need arise to expand staffing. The mechanoid crew, it was believed, would provide an invaluable service by freeing up the human staff so that they could handle matters of greater importance.

The majority of the complex was to either be controlled directly by SAN itself or one of its 6 tactical subprocessors. SAN was capable of running everything within the complex from the environmental and climate controls to physical security. It was programmed to be vigilent, keeping constant tabs on those who lived and worked within its walls. It was set up to monitor all incoming and outgoing communications. All conversations within the complex were recorded for security purposes. All activity within its realm was actively monitored and analyzed. There was no part of the complex that wasn't to be under SAN's constant scrutiny.

SAN was to be a new kind of intelligent guardian. TCDC sat poised on the brink, ready to throw the switch on what it deemed to be the most ambitious defense network ever devised. It dealt in pure, hard logic. It was infallible. It wasn't influenced by the disease of Political Correctness. It was cold. It was calculating. It was, in essence, the world's first, last, and only defense against what TCDC believed was the ultimate threat to human existence.

To Be Continued...

**Author's Note: YES! I am revamping this story once again. I know, I know. I'm sort of emotionally attached to this one for some reason, lol. I hope you enjoyed the 'new' new prologue.**

**Till next time! **

**VQ**


	2. Tao of the Machine: Chapter 1

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**Tao of the Machine: Chapter 1**

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_"The real danger is the gradual erosion of individual liberties through automation, and interconnection of many small, seperate record-keeping systems, each of which alone may seem innocuous, even benevolent, and wholly justifiable."_

_-U.S. Privacy Study Commission_

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**TCDC Strategic Command, Wyoming**

Deep beneath scenic, Yellowstone National Park, a honeycomb-like, interconnected series of bunkers blustered with frantic activity. Nicknamed 'The Hive' by those stationed there due to its structure, TCDC Strategic Command nervously readied itself to bring the Sentient Autonomous Network online for its initial startup. Tensions and expectations were both at an all-time high among those who had expended so much time and effort to ensure that Project Guard Dog came to fruition.

The orders came down from the top to commence operations and, much like a hive full of furious bees, technicians and engineers scurried about two and fro, nearly tripping over one another as they meticulously checked and rechecked the system's status and its components. There was absolutely no room for error or oversight. Everything had to function as it was intended. Everything had to run smoothly. There were too many reputations on the line and too much money invested for it not to.

"Good morning, Ladies and Gentleman." The flurry of activity ground to a halt and all attention fell on the tall, imposing-looking man in the Airforce officer's uniform who strode purposefully into the central control room.

At the age of 56, it was safe to say that the military had been Major General Alexander Bedford's entire life. For 38 years he had given the Airforce everything he had. He had enlisted in the Airforce as a boy at the tender age of 18. Eager to experience the horrors of the Vietnam War first hand, he had not been disappointed. His occupation as a C-130 gunship crewman had ensured him a front row seat to the carnage. After the fall of Saigon, he had returned to the States. He had eventually enrolled in the AFROTC to pursue his commission. Forsaking the idea of starting a family of his own, he had instead dedicated his existence to the defense of his country. Surveying his current surroundings, Major General Bedford could honestly say he didn't regret his decision.

When TCDC had approached him with the idea of heading their Strategic Command Installation he had literally jumped at the opportunity. They had been looking for someone committed to ensuring the safety of the United States, someone who would be tenacious in its defense, someone who wouldn't be afraid to step up to the plate and make the tough decisions and most importantly, someone who wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if need be. Major General Bedford assured them he was more than capable of carrying out all that would be required of him. Nothing would stand between him and the country he loved and vowed to protect with his very life...especially those giant, metal freaks.

He was a simple man. He liked to have everything laid out before him in black and white. The Cybertronians, as far as he was concerned, existed in shades of gray. The Major General made no secret of his utter disdain for the Cybertronians. He made no apologies for his belief that the world would be safer without their presence in it. He took it upon himself to ensure that, if push came to shove, humanity would triumph.

"Captain Whitaker." Coming to a halt in front of the giant monitoring console, Major General Bedford greeted his Tech Officer with a curt nod.

"G'morning, Sir." Captain Christopher Whitaker, in contrast to Major General Bedford's harsh, stoney personality, exuded a laid back, easy-going demeanor. While his charming personality made him popular amongst those serving under him, it did little to impress his Commanding Officer who believed the security of one's nation was nothing to laugh about.

Major General Bedford frowned at the younger man, clearly letting his distaste show. "What is our status?"

The younger officer tapped the console in front of him with the end of his pen. "We're green across the board. NORAD is standing by to be integrated into the system as we speak. We've also prepped DARPA, CENTCOM and the DoD servers for assimilation."

Bedford nodded. "What sort of time frame are we talking about here?"

"Once my engineers and technicians give me the all clear..." Whitaker glanced at his watch. "I'd say we'll be ready for SAN to go live within the hour, give or take."

"Excellent." The Major General grunted in approval. "Let's make this happen. Every minute we waste is another minute those robotic monstrocities could be planning their next move against us."

Captain Whitaker waited until the Major General had turned away to roll his eyes and shake his head. While he readily understood the need to implement tougher defense measures, he really didn't understand his superior's blatant animosity toward the Cybertronians. The Decepticons were one thing but from the briefings he had attended when he had been inducted into the TCDC he couldn't find any fault with what the Autobots were doing on Earth. In fact, their very presence probably deterred quite a bit of carnage that would have otherwise resulted from the arriving Decepticon Offensive.

Sighing, Whitaker returned his attention back to the task at hand. Tapping his security code into the console before him, he initiated a system check and narrowed his eyes as the data began to scroll down the screen. Everything seemed to be in order. Everything seemed to be functioning just fine. All operating parameters were within range. So, why did something feel terribly off?

Shaking his head and stepping away from the control panel, Whitaker grabbed a passing engineer. "Get me another total system diagnostic. I don't want to wake this bitch up until I know for sure that everything is on the level."

The engineer nodded quickly, "Right away, Sir."

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**University of Nevada, Reno**

"Are human beings becoming obsolete?" The older gentleman paced in front of the assembled crowd of students and academics. "Have we become the harbringers of our own demise? Have we, in fact, ensured our own extinction by birthing technology superior to ourselves in both design and function?"

The man moved to a podium in the front of the room and the lights dimmed. Behind him, on a large screen, an image of an automated automobile assembly line appeared. "What you are looking at here is technologic innovation at it's best, the new industrial revolution, if you will. This picture is from an automobile factory in Japan. I want you to look at the picture carefully. What is the first thing you notice that's missing?"

"Professor Goldman?" A young man in the third row raised his hand.

The Professor nodded. "Yes, Mr. Roberts?"

"Umm..." The younger man looked at the Professor uncertainly. "No people?"

"No people." Professor Goldman slapped one hand down on the podium causing some in the crowd to jump. "Very good, Mr. Roberts. No human involvement. The robots in this picture perform a variety of tasks they are programmed for such as welding, cutting, grinding, and painting with little to no human input. They are for all intents and purposes, self-regulating and self-sufficient."

Professor Goldman stepped back around the podium and walked across the front of the room. He ticked off points with his fingers as he moved. "They are more productive, more efficient, and more precise than a human worker could ever hope to be. They don't get sick, they don't take time off, they don't demand benefits and in the long run are cheaper to maintain than their human counterparts. Whether society would like to admit it or not, the human worker in this type of industrial environment is quickly becoming outclassed and outnumbered by machinery. It isn't something most people like to think about or acknowledge."

Professor Goldman looked thoughtful for a moment before continuing. "The fact is, most people feel frightened and threatened by the idea that they could be so easily replaced by a mechanized unit. They are bothered by the knowledge that, as time and technology both advance, human beings are actually depreciating in value...flesh and blood workers are no longer the top rung on the ladder."

"Case number two." The Professor paused for a moment and smiled at the murmuring crowd before clicking the button in his hand to change slides. The assembly line on the screen was replaced by one of a sterile surgical environment. A patient was prone and draped on an operating table. A large apparatus with four long, jointed arms loomed over the unconscious man like a giant mechanical octopus. A doctor decked out in surgical scrubs sat on the opposite side of the room hunched over a console as his surgical team looked on. "Can anyone tell me what this is?"

After looking around herself hesitantly and seeing no one else attempting to answer, a very pretty, dark-haired woman in the center of the front row raised her hand. "I can."

"Ah, Ms. Banes." Professor Goldman smiled at her kindly. "I was hoping we'd hear from you today. Your views are always refreshing. Do enlighten us."

Mikaela smiled softly and cleared her throat. "It's the Da Vinci Surgical System. It's a...robotic surgeon."

"A robot doctor..." The Professor put his hands on his hips and shook his head. "What is the world coming to? Think about it, folks. I mean it. Really think about it. That's why you're in college. To expand your mind. Take advantage of it while you can."

Mikaela's lips twitched up in a smile. She didn't think it was humanly possible for her mind to expand anymore than it already had. After all, she had the distinct privilege of knowing one of the best robotic doctors in the business on a personal level.

"Thank you, Ms. Banes." Professor Goldman nodded to the young woman and continued. "This machine, made by Intuitive Surgical, uses 3D HD endoscopy and state-of-the-art robotics to perform minimally invasive procedures that would normally be done by a human doctor. This robot is essentially an extension of its human counterpart. The human surgeon controls its activities from the console, telling it what needs to be done and supervising its work. My friends in the medical community assure me that operations performed by this machine are safe, precise, carry less risk of infection, have faster recovery times and better post-surgical outcomes than those performed by an actual human doctor. Still, I'm told it's bedside manner leaves much to be desired...although the same could be said of many human physicians I have known in my lifetime."

"Despite what you would call the intelligence of machines such as these, they remain simply an extension of their creators." The Professor moved on to the next slide showing a factory where people were hard at work putting computers together. "Machines perform the jobs we build them for. They are limited by their programming and functional capabilities. You are never going to see Robo-Doc put down his scalpel and pick up a paintbrush to become the next Picasso. The Car-Bots aren't going to get together, form a union, and decide they're tired of making Hondas and start cranking out game consoles. It just doesn't happen. They don't get a choice in the matter because they all lack something we seem to take for granted: Freedom of Will."

The Professor crossed his arms over his chest. "Take the trusty, old automobile for example. Can any of you recall the last time you climbed into your car and asked it if it minded running you to the 7-11 to get a Slurpy at 3 in the morning? My guess is that you don't. You hopped in, started it up, and steered it in the direction you wanted to go. No questions asked. Why? Because you're car doesn't get a choice. It is a machine. It has to do what you tell it to do."

Mikaela stopped scribbling notes to put a hand over her mouth in order to hold in a laugh that threatened to escape. She had actually had a similar conversation with Bumblebee not too long ago when he and Sam had drove up to visit her during finals the previous semester. Bee, of course, hadn't minded in the least and she had gotten her blue raspberry Slurpy with no problem. Sam had even paid for it.

Shaking her head, Mikaela refocused on Professor Goldman's lecture. Robotics and Engineering was her favorite class and Professor Goldman was, by far, her favorite teacher. Eventually, she hoped to put the things she learned to use by helping Ratchet out in the med bay back at the base. God knew he could use the help with more Autobots slowly finding their way to Earth, all sporting various dings and dents from running into the occasional rogue Decepticon.

Mikaela, a grease monkey by nature, had instantly garnered the favor of the CMO and, after some initial awkwardness, he had taken her in under his proverbial wing and had been tutoring her in simple Cybertronian anatomy and basic biology. While her studies with Ratchet were going very well, Mikaela figured it wouldn't hurt to have some credentials behind her name and had enrolled in college and was diligently working toward her degree on the government's dime. It was the least Uncle Sam could do for her after upheaving her entire life after Mission City. That, however, was another story all its own.

Mikaela retrieved her pencil and continued to jot down notes as Professor Goldman spoke. She smiled to herself as she listened to him speak. If only the man knew how very right he was about some of the things he theorized about in class regarding inorganic species and nonhuman intelligence. She sighed. It was a shame he would never get the chance to meet the Autobots.

"I firmly believe that we are standing on the threshold of a New Dawn." Professor Goldman stepped back to the podium and leaned against it. "Technology is moving forward at an almost alarming rate. The field of Robotic Engineering is steadily advancing as scientists turn their sights onto integrating mechanoids into everyday life. The fields of Computer Science and Artificial Intelligence are giving us smarter, faster, more powerful machines..."

"Here is something I want you to think about..." The Professor folded his hands together on top of the podium. "It is estimated that by the year 2030, computers will actually surpass humans in terms of intelligence. Now, I'm not talking about your Dell kicking your butt in a game of Trivial Pursuit...I'm talking about machines that will possess an exponentially higher mental capacity than that of the people who created them. What exactly does that mean?"

"I'll tell you what it could mean." The Professor turned the lights back up and shut off his projector. "Imagine, if you will, a world in which humans are no longer the dominant species. Picture a world controlled by highly evolved, sentient machines, a place where human beings are regarded as irrelevent and insignificant to the functioning of society. It sounds like a bad Sci-Fi movie but is it actually that far from becoming reality? That's what we're going to examine. I'd like for you to turn in your text books to Chapter 15. Ms. Banes, would you please humor us by reading the first section? Nice and loud so everyone can hear, please."

"Yes, Professor." Mikaela turned to the correct page and clearing her throat, began to read. "Is the possibility of mechanical sentience science fiction or science fact? The future of Artificial Intelligence may be just around the corner..."

End of Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter sort of got the hint across about what TCDC is about to get themselves into. It most likely isn't going to be pretty.**


	3. Tao of the Machine: Chapter 2

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**Tao of the Machine: Chapter 2 **

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_"If we continue to develop our technology without wisdom or prudence, our servant may prove to be our executioner." _

_- Omar N. Bradley _

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**TCDC Strategic Command, Wyoming**

"Alright, someone me get one last system rundown." Captain Christopher Whitaker chewed nervously on the end of his pen as he watched the bytes of incoming data flow across the Sentient Autonomous Network's main control console monitor. Everything he had reviewed seemed to indicate that SAN was functioning as desired. All system diagnostics had come back clean. There seemed to be no indication of any malfunctions or inconsistencies within the machine's programming. All of SAN's main hardware was up and running without issue. The Network seemed more than ready to go live.

Captain Whitaker sighed and sank back into his chair. An unexplainable feeling of dread broiled deep within the pit of his stomach. He had worked on many different projects throughout his military career as a computer systems developmental engineer but never in his wildest dreams had he believed that he would be participating in anything quite like this. SAN was on an entirely different level altogether. The beast that currently slumbered beneath Yellowstone was nothing less than a colossus. The sheer magnitude of SAN's processing capabilities and the broad scope of the vital processes and functions it would be tasked with performing, as well as the enormous information payload it would be responsible for safeguarding, made SAN the largest, most intricately programmed mechanism in the history of man.

It wasn't just SAN's sheer size and scope of abilities the Captain found intimidating. He had been privy to things during SAN's development that, quite frankly, had disturbed him profoundly. The things he had seen, the experiments he had participated in during Project Guard Dog's earliest phases, had made him seriously question his morals and ethics as both a scientist and an engineer. What most people working on the project failed to realize, what Chris Whitaker knew all too well, was that SAN was much more than a simple defense network. They had, most literally, breathed life into an entity, an intelligence the likes of which had never before been seen. The possibility of failure carried with it great consequences, consequences that absolutely terrified the Captain to his very core. As the lead Technical Officer, the responisibility he had to ensure the project's success weighed heavily on him.

"Captain," Whitaker's thoughts were interrupted as Major General Bedford strode purposefully toward him. "I need an update."

Whitaker ran a hand through his hair as he spun around in his chair to face his Commanding Officer. He pushed his misgivings aside. Much time and energy had gone into Project Guard Dog. He, himself, had gone through SAN's inner workings with a fine-toothed comb. All feedback indicated that the possibility of something going wrong was slim to none. Even if something did happen to go awry, he rationalized, there were certain safeguards in place. He squared his shoulders and smiled up at his CO. "Everything looks to be a go. The system is idle and awaiting permission for initial startup."

"Fantastic." Major General Bedford actually smiled back and clapped the younger man on the shoulder. He turned to address the rest of the room, "Alright ladies and gentleman, its go time. Everyone get on your station and let's get ready to begin inaugural startup procedures."

Engineers and scientists immediately began to scramble around to get to their proper places. The excitement in the air was almost palpable as the Major General turned back to the Captain. "Let's do this. The sooner SAN is online, the safer we'll all be."

"Yes, Sir." Whitaker nodded to his superior and turned back around in his chair. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, he began typing in the authorization codes that would wake the beast from its slumber. This was the point of no return and whatever happened within the next few moments would change everything either for the better or for worse.

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**University of Nevada, Reno**

"Alright people," Professor Goldman glanced at his watch. "I think that'll do it for today. I'm sure you're all eager to get out of here and start your spring break. Do remember though, there will be a test over the material we've been covering when you all return." The professor surveyed his pupils over the rim of his glasses. "I strongly suggest that you all take a bit of time out from your partying or whatever it is you young people do when you're not here to review. That is all. Have a nice break and stay safe."

Mikaela quickly gathered her things, dumping her books and her writing utensils into her messenger bag before slinging it over her shoulder and moving quickly toward the exit of the lecture hall. Yes, Robotics and Engineering was her favorite class but she had been looking forward to these two weeks for a long time. She had been pushing herself hard in her studies and felt she was deserving of a little rest and relaxation. Of course, rest and relaxation were relative terms. Her vacation would consist of catching up on her studies with Ratchet. She didn't mind, though. She much preferred the CMO's hands on approach to learning as opposed to reading information straight out of a book.

Then, of course, there was Sam. They weren't seeing each other nearly as often as they would have liked due to Sam attending a different university but they still managed to get together whenever they could. Mikaela fully intended to make the most out of the next two weeks as far as the quirky, young man who had completely changed her life with a simple car ride was concerned. It still amazed her that Sam, as awkward as he could be at times, had managed to worm his way into her life. Then again, she mused, stranger things had happened.

Bursting through the exterior doors and outside into the bright sunshine, Mikaela made her way through the bustling crowd and back toward the dorm building that she called home. Everyone she passed seemed to be in a hurry to get off campus and start their vacation. Cars lined the curb across the street in front of one of the large, red brick buildings while students, some struggling with luggage, piled into them.

Mikaela sighed. She wished she was among them. Unfortunately, she didn't have a vehicle of her own and had been forced to purchase a bus ticket home at the last minute which meant she wouldn't be leaving campus until Monday morning. Ready transportation, among other things, was one of the things she missed about being closer to home. When your friends were giant, transforming robots from another planet you never had to worry about bumming a ride.

Trudging purposefully down the sidewalk toward her building, Mikaela turned the corner at the end of the block and stopped dead in her tracks. A wide grin split her face when she caught the sight of the familiar, yellow Camaro idling at the curb. Her smile grew even wider at the sight of the young man leaning lazily against the front bumper. She immediately took off at a run. "Sam!"

Sam Witwicky's head snapped up at the sound of his name being called just in time for him to react quickly enough to catch an armful of the brunette that had launched herself at him. He didn't resist when her lips crashed against his own. He pulled back after a moment, a crooked grin on his face. "Hey, 'Kaela."

Mikaela smiled back at him and slapped him lightly on the arm. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," Sam shrugged. "I wasn't really doing anything and I missed you and didn't think I could wait until Monday night to see you so I thought I'd drive up here and surprise you. Are you? Surprised, I mean?"

"Yeah, Sam." Mikaela chuckled. "I am surprised and I missed you, too." She stepped away from Sam and toward the idling car, giving the hood an affectionate pat. "You too, Bumblebee."

The engine gave and answering rumble, the radio increased in volume just enough to be heard through the cracked, driver's side window. "_Homeward bound. I wish I was...Homeward bound_. _Home, where my thought's escaping. Home, where my music's playing. Home, where my love lies waiting silently for me..._"

Sam laughed and slapped the Camaro's bumper. "Bee's right. I, for one, am ready to go home and start my vacation."

Mikaela didn't need to be told twice. She gave Sam another peck on the lips. "I'll be right back."

She practically flew up the steps and into the building. She wasn't gone more than 5 minutes before she was skipping back out the doors, thankful that she had the foresight to pack the things she wanted to take home with her in advance. Trotting around to the passenger side of the Camaro, she pulled the door open and slipped inside.

"Let's get out of here." A contented sigh escaped from her lips as she snuggled into the warm safety of Bumblebee's seat and Sam slid in behind the wheel and laced his fingers with her own. As Bee pulled away from the curb, a smile pulled at her lips. She would get to enjoy this for two, whole weeks. Nothing, absolutely nothing, could ruin her good mood.

End of Chapter 2

**FYI...the lyrics playing on Bee's radio were from the Simon and Garfunkle song 'Homeward Bound'. **

**Till next time, **

**VQ**


End file.
